


Tulta Munille

by vienn_peridot



Series: Paths to Redemption [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Axe REALLY appreciates a good verbal pwning, Deadlock is a damn good teacher, Established Relationship, Finnish repurposed as 'Kaonite', Friendship, Other, Paintball, Shooting Guns, well it's more like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 01:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8690443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vienn_peridot/pseuds/vienn_peridot
Summary: Wing is forced to eat humble pie.Turns out Drift is a better teacher than he thought.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kuukkeli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuukkeli/gifts).



> For Moonspud. You know why *internet hugs*
> 
> Inspiration came from [this tumblr post](http://viisivarvaslaiskiainen.tumblr.com/post/151141063343/adhesivesandscrap-viisivarvaslaiskiainen). Imagine Wing has a posh, upper-class accent when he speaks and Drift sounds like a hardcore gang member.  
> Unedited version of this can be founds [here](http://adhesivesandscrap.tumblr.com/post/151181347891/pssst-viisivarvaslaiskiainen-a-wingdrift).
> 
> This does come after Broken in the timeline of this AU but is not a proper sequel. A proper sequel to Broken is still 'in development', as it were.

It was a combination of bonding exercise and reconciliation.

A peace offering from Wing that even Drift could recognise as such.

Given that it happened after Drift spent a few hours (in great detail, at the top of his vocaliser) telling Wing _exactly_ what he thought of the jet’s abilities as an instructor -and that Axe had even _agreed_ with Drift (after the older Knight stopped laughing long enough to be able to speak)- it was fairly obvious.

At first Drift didn’t realise what was happening, not when Wing led him to a part of the city he hadn’t seen before. He was too busy looking around, scoping out his surroundings with the optics of both a streetmecha and a frontline warrior. A newer set of subroutines was cataloguing places he thought he might like to come back and visit later, one or two even tagged with the idea of dragging Redline along for the trip.

_He needs to get out of the Citadel more._

Wing stopped in front of a long, sturdily-reinforced building that actually seemed to be at least partially built into the cavern wall. The jet’s Field felt distinctly prickly as he fidgeted, waiting for Drift to finish looking around and figure out what was going on.

A light came on in Drift’s processors when he saw the discreet sign over the large entry door. A wide, fang-baring grin spread across his faceplates when a subdued Wing opened the door and allowed the speedster to precede him into the building.

 _A Shooting Range, huh?_ Excellent _._

This time Drift was given the lead in choosing the weapons they would train with. After some serious testing (despite Wing hovering uncomfortably and willing him to speed things up with little impatient brushes of his EMF) Drift finally chose something as close as he could find to his beloved blasters, selecting something similar for Wing. He couldn’t quite keep a smirk off his face as he patiently showed his friend the proper way to hold and handle the unfamiliar weapons.

Instead of soft projectile rounds Drift chose paint pellets in lurid fluorescent green and orange. He _hated_ having things rolling about underpede, especially squishy things like those little foam slugs that confused the slag out of his sensors.

 _And I want Wing to see_ exactly _where his shots are landing._

Teaching Wing how to load the pistols went smoothly enough, once the Knight got through his initial fumblings with an unfamiliar weapon. Then Drift set him in front of a line of targets, stepped up to the firing line and gave Wing a cleaned-up version of the training lecture and demonstration he used to give Decepticon recruits. For all his discomfort the Knight proved to be a good student. Wing listened intently, a small frown creasing his browplates as he watched and listened, silently mouthing key points to himself. As usual, Drift wound up his lecture by glancing at the targets and snapping off perfect bullseyes with one hand before switching to the other to repeat the feat. Bright golden optics flickered from Drift to the targets and back again, Wing’s jaw dropping and surprise ripping through his Field.

Smirking, Drift decided to be nice and didn’t point it out, waiting until Wing noticed and closed his mouth before ordering the Knight up to the firing line and correcting his stance with gentle pokes. When Wing’s form was as good as it would get, Drift stepped back and gave the order to fire.

Flightpanels twitching, Wing obeyed.

He missed the first shot.

And every single one after that.

The walls and ceiling gathered a thorough speckling of bright green splat-marks while the targets stayed untouched apart from the dribbling orange splotches of Drift’s bullseyes.

“I’m just not calibrated for distance-fighting, Drift.” Wing said after an hour and several boxes of green paintballs, his Field full of frustration and defeat. “I will admit you’re a good instructor; I’m not missing by as much as I was. But no amount of teaching will overcome a lack of ability on the part of the student.”

Raising an optical ridge, Drift pointed a finger at the targets in a silent command that he backed up with a merciless Field.

_I’ve taught worse than you to hit what they aim at, flyboy._

Despite the growing aggravation in his Field Wing tried again, both hands steadying his pistol as he frowned down the range and squeezed the trigger with exaggerated care.

This time Drift saw it: the little upward flick from Wing’s arms that sent his shot high and wide.

_Ah! He’s got that ‘fly for the sky’ thing…_

Now that Drift knew what to look for it was obvious, and the more Wing concentrated on hitting the targets the worse it got. His core coding associated everything important with flight, height, _altitude_. It was just how flightframes _were_.

And in this case Drift knew _exactly_ what to do about it.

“ _Tulta munille_.” He said when Wing stopped to re-load, his movements already much smoother than his first fumbling attempt. “This time when you fire I want you to _tulta munille_.”

Wing looked at him like he’d lost his mind.

“You want me to… what?” The Knight asked carefully, his accent suddenly sounding clearer to Drift’s audials than it had for a long time.

“Kaonite slang.” Drift explained crisply. “In your prissy dialect it would probably be something like ‘shoot for the crotch’.”

Wing’s helm tilted from side to side, EMF dense with concentration and golden optics slightly hooded as he thought.

“It’s worth a try, I guess.” He said with a shrug, sighing as he stepped up for another attempt.

“ _Tulta munille_.” Drift reminded him as Wing deliberately re-checked his own form, stalling for time before another doomed attempt to hit something besides the ceiling or back wall.

“ _Tulta munille_.” Wing agreed, butchering the pronunciation horribly.

He cycled his vents, ruffled and settled his armour before taking aim and firing.

A splotch of green bloomed on one of the targets.

Wing exploded.

“I DID IT!” He shrieked, turbines firing as he whirled around, Field whipping around him in a froth of excitement. “DRIFT, DID YOU SEE THAT?! I _DID_ IT!”

It wasn’t worth the effort to keep the smile off his faceplates so Drift let it be, feeling his cheeks stretch uncomfortably as he pointed down the range.

“I saw. Now do it again.” He ordered.

“Yes, sir!” Wing said with a delighted laugh, fluttering flightpanels the only sign of his joy as he took up the stance Drift had shown him, “ _Tulta munille!_ ”

Shaking his helm, Drift watched with pride as the other targets got their own green decorations while Wing continued to mutter to himself as he fired.

 _“Tulta munille.  tulta munille, tulta munille, tulta munille_.”

**Author's Note:**

> I reckon Deadlock would take the time to train recruits (time and resources allowing). And he'd be bloody good at it too.


End file.
